


The Magic of Red Pants

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Sherlock, Couch Sex, Frottage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Red Pants, Red Pants Monday, Top John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 09:46:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sherlock is bored, John's red pants provide an excellent distraction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Magic of Red Pants

**Author's Note:**

> For Red Pants Monday

“Bored.” Sherlock lay stretched out on the couch, staring at the ceiling. This was the fifth time he’d announced his boredom in the last thirty minutes and John wasn’t about to suggest Cluedo again. Taking two deep breaths he finished his tea while watching Sherlock. The man was staring at the ceiling, fingers steepled at his chest, hair wild and uncombed. John was certain he hadn’t left the flat for days. His dressing gown was open, t-shirt rumpled and riding up, exposing a bit of pale bare stomach above his pyjama bottoms.

John finished the sentence and saved the document before getting up and heading for the couch. It was warm today and was wearing just a t-shirt and jeans himself. He could see Sherlock watching him as he climbed onto the couch and straddled Sherlock, hips slotting together as he leaned forward and settled on Sherlock’s narrow chest. A smile quirked across John’s lips.

Sherlock moaned softly, dropping his arms to his side. He rocked up against John. “You are wearing too many clothes,” he muttered.

“Am I?” John thrust against him once, twice, feeling Sherlock growing harder underneath him. “And I’m wearing something I thought you’d like.”

Pushing John up, Sherlock went for his belt. He moaned again as he got John’s flies open. “Red?”

Grinning now, John got up just long enough to peel off his jeans, revealing the red pants he was wearing underneath. It was worth it for the look of naked lust on Sherlock’s face

“Yes,” John growled softly, climbing back on top of Sherlock and rocking slowly against him. Sherlock moaned and met his thrusts, holding onto John’s forearms. “I bet I could get you off just like this,” mused John.

Sherlock met his eyes and rocked up harder against John.  Head rocking back, John ran his tongue across his lips slowly as the red fabric dragged across his cock.

“John…while I appreciate your physical efforts this is hardly mentally stimulating.”

John stilled his hips and looked Sherlock in the eyes. “Not stimulating?” Sherlock stared right back. A few heartbeats passed between them and the air grew thick with challenge.

Moving first, John grabbed Sherlock’s hair and wrenched his head back, moving up as he dragged his teeth down that perfect throat. Sherlock pushed up against him, but John had him pinned, suckling against the pulse point until Sherlock gave an undignified groan, writhing underneath John.

John pushed down his pants and Sherlock’s bottoms and wrapped a hand around both of them. “John,” this time his name was a moan as John squeezed. He let go of Sherlock long enough to dig lube out of the couch cushions and coat his hand. He squeezed again, then began moving his hand, dragging them together and panting at the sensation.

Sherlock arched up, getting one hand free and wrapping his larger hand around John’s and their cocks. John groaned and rocked against him before leaning down to bite Sherlock’s shoulder, worrying the flesh in his teeth. Sherlock thrashed underneath him, bringing a long leg up to rub his thigh along John’s perineum.

Rocking along his leg a moment, John pulled his hand free. He grabbed Sherlock’s bottoms and yanked them down and off. John lifted up, just long enough to push Sherlock’s thighs apart with his knees. “I am going to fuck you, Sherlock.”

“So you say, Captain Watson.” Sherlock’s eyes were dark with lust.

“Doubt my purpose?” John dropped his slicked hand down to brush against Sherlock’s entrance. With a lascivious cry Sherlock rocked back, legs spreading wide with desire. “You are mine,” growled John, pushing his fingers carefully inside, making Sherlock gasp with the penetration.

John pushed his finger deeper while Sherlock moaned. Panting, John admired the man, sweat slick and open, eyes screwed closed against the pleasure John was delivering. Then John crooked his finger just so.

“Ah!” Sherlock’s eyes flew open, his hands fluttering for some sort of purchase. One hand landed in his own hair, the other gripped his own thigh, scratching the pale skin as he rocked. “John!”

“Mine, Sherlock,” John growled again, adding a second finger. He leaned down to lick a stripe up Sherlock’s full cock, earning a whimper as Sherlock stared at him, eyes wide and lust-blown.

Sherlock’s tongue darted out, licking parched lips. “Yes John,” he whispered.

John’s heart beat faster, knowing he held Sherlock Holmes in his hand. His own cock was full and leaking, knowing the power he held. Slowly he scissored his fingers, then more lube and a third finger, never taking his eyes off Sherlock’s face. “Tell me, Sherlock. What do you want?”

Panting, Sherlock licked his lips. He swallowed a few times, Adam’s apple bobbing convulsively. “You,” he breathed.

“Me what?” John pushed his fingers deeper, then slowly dragged them back out.

Sherlock’s head rocked back. “Fuck me, John.”

John pulled his fingers out with a pop. He slicked himself then wiped his hand on Sherlock’s t-shirt, looming above him as he lined himself up and slowly pressed against Sherlock’s hole.

“Please!” Sherlock shouted, grabbing at John’s shoulders, nails catching and scratching at his back. John snapped his hips forward, making Sherlock dig his fingers in deeper as he thrashed his head, knocking himself against the arm of the sofa.

John cradled his head in one strong hand as thrust deeper and harder, protecting Sherlock’s head as he drove him against the arm of the sofa, breaths short and hard as he filled Sherlock over and over again. Sherlock whimpered and dropped one hand to stroke himself. “Please,” he begged again.

“Go on,” said John softly but firmly. “Come for me.”

Sherlock stroked himself, matching John’s rhythm. In only a few moments he gave a cry and twisted his head to the side, burying it against John’s arm as he came.

“Beautiful,” muttered John, then closed his eyes as Sherlock clenched around him. A few more strokes and he came with a groan, filling Sherlock and reveling in the warm wet heat as he ground his hips down before carefully pulling out. Sherlock gently kissed his forearm as John opened his eyes again.

Smiling softly, John smoothed Sherlock’s hair with his other hand. “I’ll get something to clean us up.”

He started to extract his hand but Sherlock tugged him down against his chest. John nuzzled his head underneath Sherlock’s chin. “Fine. But you can clean this up later.”

Sherlock just hummed and wrapped one long arm across John’s back, pulling him closer. John ignored the sticky mess pooling against his stomach and closed his eyes, comfortable and just where he belonged.

“You should wear those red pants more often,” said Sherlock softly as John started to drift off.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


End file.
